Sometimes we break, sometimes we build

Strai was a worker. Good, his help would be very, very necessary over the course of the next seasons. Viðarr gives an appreciative grumble as the boy helps maneuver the post. It's an awkward length, but once set in the hole, it was easy enough to drive in. "Hold it steady." He gives the instruction, using a large, relatively flat rock to begin driving the post into place. Thumping away until it's at a reasonable depth. Finally, leaning into it, weight up against the post. Though it gave a bit, it wasn't much. Viðarr stepped back to scowl at the now upright beam, deciding it will do the job. One down... so many more to go.

But it was a moment before he answered the boy's question. Viðarr bristled minutely, protectively. "She is." If he wanted more, he'd have to ask more. The viking king looks at the boy for a moment, and then back to his work. Moving to drag the middle slats for the fence into place beside the post, marking the distance carefully. "Why?" Why was Strai asking after his granddaughter? Though he's deathly protective of the girl, he's also curious. What was the boy getting at?

"Viðarr"